The Day She Learned How To Pray
by sapphire-child
Summary: What if Charlie had died in the hatch explosion? Claire POV.


Title: The Day She Learned To Pray  
Genre: angst, tragedy, AU  
Spoilers: end of season two  
Summary: What would have happened if Charlie _had_ died in the hatch explosion?  
Disclaimer: They buried my Lost action figures in their sandpit – I had to dig them out again, I just had to!

* * *

My most loyal companion, the washed up rock-star-junkie turned father figure…

I miss you.

I haven't written anything in here since it happened but I guess now is the time for me to just write it all down, do my venting and then finally cry for you.

I still haven't cried. I guess I'm in shock still. Even when I touched your face with just my fingertips and your skin was cool underneath my touch I didn't i really /i believe it.

You're gone.

You're _gone._

You're _really gone._

Touching you brought back another memory I didn't know I had, one of holding your hand when everything was dark and terrifying. You were like a lifeline, your hand a constant comfort as we were pulled through the jungle, blind and terrified. When your hand was wrenched out of mine I started to scream, somehow loosening the gag enough to let my vocal cords do their worst. The sounds I heard were muffled as someone grabbed on tight to me and wouldn't let me run, one hand clamped over my mouth. I fought anyway, kicking against the ground with my feet like a spoilt child having a temper tantrum and biting at their hand like some wild animal.

It wasn't long before they re-gagged me though, and we moved on. I didn't know what had happened to you. Later, when I found out, I felt a little pang of shock. I never saw you hanging from that tree but I can imagine it all too clearly in my minds eye. Kate described how Jack beat you back to life and I felt sick – did I cause you to die? And yet you never mentioned it, never a bitter word about it.

You never used it to your advantage.

You died for me and you never told me.

Maybe you assumed that I knew and didn't want to talk about it either.

Well I didn't. I still don't. It's enough to know.

I kind of wish now that I'd mentioned it before. I'd already swallowed my pride and reached out to you again when I took your hand at the funeral but it was too late for us I guess. That night I got worried when I couldn't find you around the fires. There had been no word from the hatch and everyone was worried.

I kept telling myself that you'd be fine, there was no reason to worry.

You'd be back in the morning.

Well you were back in the morning in the end, the only trouble was that you didn't have a pulse.

John and Eko carried you back. Eko's grief was obvious even from a distance but at first I thought that you were just really badly injured and my heart leapt up and down, thudding against my rib cage. But when I saw them lay you down and put a piece of plastic tarp over you I knew.

Everyone was so shocked. As much as you'd been segregated lately – no thanks to me – there was still crying and grieving and upset from the others. You were a valued member of our community without me even realising. Or maybe it's just that so many people had died recently. First Shannon then Libby and Ana-Lucia…

And then you.

You looked so tired when I went to see you. I curled up beside your body and brushed your fringe away from your closed eyes with a surprisingly steady hand. There were smile lines engraved into your face, two short scars, the familiar scrubby beard. It felt so strange to be so close to you again – I'd never had my body pressed up again yours so close and you felt so _cold._

I kissed you. I kissed you just before they wrapped you up in his tarpaulin again. Your lips were burnt, rough, painful against mine and yet I still somehow expected you to respond to me.

Of course you didn't – don't be so stupid Claire. Charlie's _dead._

I said something at the funeral for you. Scrap that, I practically _ran_ the bloody thing. Eko was in too much of a state and Locke's lungs had been burnt so badly that he was having trouble breathing, let alone talking.

I took your ring. The one with DS on it? I think it had something to do with your band – you never really told me much about it. I hope you don't mind. It barely fits on my thumb but I don't think I'll ever take it off. I keep spinning it around and around my finger, tracing the initials. It was something so _you_. So Charlie. Your hand looked naked without it but I still took it. I replaced it with my own ring, so that I'd always be with you too or something. It didn't sound quite so corny when I said it at the funeral.

Your necklace we left on. It was practically glued on anyway and we would've had to cut it to get the stupid thing off. We made a cross and leant your guitar against it. It's full of flowers, like a vase. I'm sure you'd be horrified if you could see it but everyone seems to think it's a worthy shrine to you.

I must say I agree.

And now I've been given the task of going through your possessions and sorting them. Your clothes are all probably going to go in the communal pile – except for that stripy shirt. I'm going to keep that. Oh, and your hoodie. It probably sounds stalkerish but it smells like you did and when I picked it up I couldn't help but wrap myself in it despite the sweltering heat. If I breathe in deep now, I can almost imagine that you're sitting here next to me, clucking to Aaron and…

Well there we go, I knew it wouldn't be long before I started to cry. I guess I'll just keep writing and hope it doesn't smudge. Or that my pen doesn't run out. Murphy's Law eh?

Oh god I wish I could pray for you now, just because I've been baptised doesn't mean that I know how to pray for you. I need to know that you've gone up to heaven and that you're safe there and watching over Aaron and I like I know you'd want to. Your presence is so _strong_ here still, like you'll just walk out from the trees in a minute and I'll be able to walk up to you and kiss you and tell you that I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I never told you that I was falling in love with you. And it i scared /i me Charlie – it scared me so badly that I began to push you away. The fact that you were a better dad than I was a mum just made things worse. God Charlie, why the fuck did you have to be so perfect? I almost hated you for that.

From the time we met you were the only one who ever really saw me. You were always there, always there, even when I didn't want you to be there and I was being stupid and stubborn and a right stroppy bitch, _you were there._ And more times than once I was glad of you being with me, even if I didn't tell you so.

And now you're gone and I don't have anyone left to notice me. They're all too busy to see if I'm okay.

I did love you Charlie. And as long as I can I'll survive here for you because somebody should be here to tell your story when we get rescued. Because we _will _get rescued one day in one way shape or form, and even if we don't, I'm sure that one day somebody will read this and they'll know that you were here, with me on this island and I loved you.

I hope you're in a happier place now – I'll miss you always.

Love always, Claire


End file.
